


Ever the Clown

by daisyisawriter91



Series: James Shefford [1]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Language, Secret Relationship, The Author Discards Canon Facts About Darkiplier, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 06:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18493549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyisawriter91/pseuds/daisyisawriter91
Summary: A spooky old mansion. A get together with friends. But this time, there's an extra player on the board. His name is James Shefford. And he's full of so much potential.





	1. An Ominous Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first AO3 post in a long time, and I apologize for that. I actually want to start finishing my other projects. However, I've gotten into some new fandoms, as proven, and started posting this particular AU on tumblr. This and the other big series I did are probably the only fics of that AU I will post here, but if you're interested, check out @james-wigglestheclown on tumblr for the rest of the AU! That said, please enjoy!

The pit in James Shefford’s stomach grew steadily larger as the car pulled up to the intimidating manor. Much as he wanted to be the optimist, and typically could be, he couldn’t find it in himself to dispel the worry. It was eating away at him. Something bad was in that manor.  
His foot tapped nervously against the floor, upper row of teeth biting hard into his lip. It was his worst habit. He was constantly bleeding at least a little because of it.  
“James, you’re doing it again.” Came the calming voice of the man beside him. The car rocked to a stop outside the manor, and James finally turned to look at his companion.  
Despite the illustrious title of mayor, Damien refused to allow anyone to be his chauffeur. He drove himself places, damn the consequences. A fierce sense of independence, James had learned not long after they met, back in university.  
“I’m well aware, Damien.” James replied, too quickly. It had to be clear on his face. James was scared of the invitation, scared of the manor, hell, scared of Mark. They’d been out of touch with him too long for James to be completely sure of who exactly they’d be meeting.  
Damien reached out and touched James’s cheek, gently, the touch James knew well, yet would never grow tired of.  
“I know we both may have our...worries and doubts, but surely, it can’t be so bad? Your brain is one of the most beautiful things about you, but it gets away from you so easily. Just for now, put it to sleep. So we may catch up with our old friends.” Damien said, ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips.  
“You’re right. Of course you’re right. It just...doesn’t stop me from being worried.” As the last word left his lips, James glanced back up to the manor.  
Damien was silent a moment, clearly trying to figure out how to best respond. “I trust your judgement, James. I will be cautious. You’ve never lead me wrong before.”   
James gripped Damien’s hand in his own, sighing. “Perhaps I have overreacted a bit. But this bad feeling won’t go away.” James murmured. He looked up into Damien’s eyes, trying not to be distracted by the adoration he saw within them.  
“Promise me something, right now.”  
“Anything, my love.” Damien readily agreed. Without even intending to, he broke James’s heart daily, and repaired it just as easily.  
“If something goes wrong, promise me you will leave. Run away as fast and as far as you can. Leave me and everyone else behind. Just run.” James said.  
“James, that’s insane, I can’t leave you!” Damien protested.   
“If you have to, I want you to. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t.” James ended his sentence with a small smile.  
Damien looked into his eyes for a long moment before glancing down at their entwined hands. “I’d never forgive myself. And this is crazy! It’s possible nothing could happen.”   
Damien seemed to be thinking faster than he spoke, a habit James noticed Damien easily slipped into. “I promise, James. If there is nothing else to be done, I will leave. But if there’s a chance, any chance at all, for you to come with me in this...crazy scenario, I will take it.”  
James knew this was just to ease his mind, and it worked. Damien was a man of his word. Even if he thought nothing bad would happen, he would uphold his word.  
“Thank you, love.” James replied, gently resting his forehead against Damien’s.  
“Now, shall we go in and have a bit of fun?” Damien proposed. James grinned, devilishly.  
“Beat you there.” With that, he hopped out of the car and ran towards the steps, Damien calling out from behind him.  
“And you said you were nervous!” Damien shouted.   
James dashed up the steps. If he hadn’t, he would have never summited them. There was something _wrong_ about this place, he could feel it in his bones. But he would ignore it for now. Any excuse to spend time with Damien was one he would take, as he had precious little of it as mayor. Of course, James couldn’t blame him for it. He would just seize any nanosecond they had together.  
Damien caught up to him on the steps, but James was already walking inside, and being greeted by a butler who asked for his invitation. James handed his over, soon followed by Damien’s. Damien was almost imperceptibly out of breath and it made James laugh to himself.  
A quick survey of the area showed they were the first to arrive. And another, more in depth look of the area showed this place was just as lavish as James originally thought. All of the decorations were likely more expensive than James’s watch. Possibly more expensive than James’s apartment, when all of them were put together.  
James was seldom in any house these days where he couldn’t at least scrape the ceiling. And yet here he was, craning his head back just to see the ceiling.  
What he hadn’t realized was that he tipped too far back and lost balance. It happened more than he would’ve liked to admit, but Damien was all too fond of teasing him for it.  
He stumbled backwards, magnificently tripping over his own feet, and very nearly fell to the floor, if not for his favorite pair of arms catching him on the way down.  
James may have had height on his side, but Damien definitely had the strength. Catching James’s weight was no trouble, and the beautiful bastard had the audacity to laugh.  
He pulled James up, back to his own feet, but held him in place for a moment, turning him around. “Perhaps your ominous feeling was just your own bad luck.” Damien teased. James frowned down at Damien.  
“I suppose we won’t know until we’re gone.” James quipped. “Perhaps my ominous feeling was your habit of running your mouth.”   
Damien grinned, and James let some of the tension in his body melt away. Not all of it, he wasn’t stupid enough to ignore his gut. But enough to let Damien stop worrying.   
Damien already carried so much worry around, lines almost permanently creased between his eyebrows. James hated adding to it. His job was to ease those lines.  
As soon as James heard the butler returning to the room, he broke away from Damien, shuffling, awkwardly. Neither of them were quite ready for other people to know about their relationship, despite having maintained it for nearing two years.  
With the climate of the world being what it was, it was frankly unsafe for them to confess to anything they’d done. What made it worse was Damien’s face any time James stepped away. His heart seemed to crack a little bit more, resignation written onto his face.  
The butler whisked into the room, carrying a tray of two squat glasses filled with champagne. He held it out to Damien and James, patiently.   
Damien cast a glance to James and waited. James nodded, slightly, unnoticed by the butler. At James’s signal, Damien delicately plucked a glass from the tray and took a sip. James discreetly watched his throat bob with the motion.  
“And for you, sir?” The butler prompted. James held up his hand.  
“Oh, no, thank you. It’s much appreciated, but I’m sober.” James explained. “Thank you, um...I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”  
The butler appeared taken aback at James’s words, and took a moment to speak. James felt the pit in his stomach rear its ugly head once more as he wondered if he offended the butler.  
“Apologies, it’s just...no one’s asked my name in years. It’s Benjamin, sir.” The butler, Benjamin, answered.  
“I’ll certainly remember it, Benjamin, and thank you.” James said, smiling. He could feel the same awkward tilt to it he always had when he was uncomfortable. After Damien pointed it out, James was acutely aware of it.  
Discreetly, Damien plucked the other glass off the tray, claiming it as his own. James had to suppress a rather unattractive snort.  
Benjamin exited the room in the same fashion he entered, and James watched him go, curiously. He seemed a nice enough man. It made James wonder who he had been serving.  
“There are people who truly convince me the word ‘skittering’ was created just to describe them.” Damien muttered, once Benjamin was out of earshot. Despite himself, James giggled, knowing Damien would be grinning from ear to ear.  
“That’s rude, Dame.” James scolded, halfheartedly. He couldn’t bring himself to be too angry.   
“Anything to hear your laughter.” Damien replied, not missing a beat. On anyone else, it would have sounded fake. But the warmth in his eyes, the smile on his face, James knew he meant every word.  
“You’d better stop that, Mr. Mayor,” James quipped.  
“Or what?” Damien prodded, stepping back towards James.  
“I’ll fall even further in love with you.” James answered, grabbing Damien’s hand.   
“That’s the plan, my love.” Damien said. He lifted their joined hands to his lips. Even after a year, Damien could still bring an unbelievable amount of color to James’s cheeks.  
James cleared his throat, trying to subtly remind Damien they were technically not alone just yet. Damien got the message, and untangled his fingers, lingering only a moment.  
“When do you think our ‘illustrious host’ will be showing his face?” James asked, already knowing the answer.  
“Knowing our dear friend Mark, it will be after everyone has already arrived and he can make a dramatic entrance right over…” Damien trailed off, glancing around the house. He pointed to a set of stairs leading up to the next floor. “There.”  
“Good eye.” James commended with a nod.  
Damien met James’s eyes, purposefully. “I love you, James. And I want you to know, I took your warning seriously. I’ll be on guard. But it’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I promise you that.”  
James smiled, dropping a bit more tension. Damien was a man of his word. Come hell or high water, he would keep his promises.  
Wouldn’t he?


	2. One Great Night

James was coming back from the washroom when he spotted the newest arrivals. The esteemed Colonel and the newly appointed District Attorney, two of James’s greatest friends.   
The attorney, Oscar, was speaking with Damien, while the Colonel wandered. James did not get the chance to say hello to him, but would later, he knew.  
“And try not to rob me blind again!” Damien joked.  
“I make no promises.” Oscar replied, wry smile on his face.   
James hadn’t seen much of Oscar recently, buried in his cases as per usual. But he had made an effort for the night. A suitable tux with a reasonable bow-tie, glasses perched atop his nose, hair slicked back as a contrast from his usual bed-head.   
“We’ll catch up.” Damien said, walking towards where James assumed the poker table would be.   
He had never had the pleasure of visiting the house before, as the last time the opportunity had arisen, he’d been incredibly ill. He and Damien had yet to confess their feelings to one another, but in hindsight, it was painfully obvious. Especially when Damien almost stayed behind just to take care of him.   
As Damien left the room, he nodded to James in acknowledgement, a silent promise to see him later, after the pleasantries.  
Oscar finally set eyes on James and his face lit up. Oscar always _was_ the type to wear his emotions for all to see.  
“James! It feels like it’s been ages!” Oscar greeted, enthusiastically, taking quick strides to embrace James, fiercely. He could always expect outward affection from Oscar, and readily accepted it every time.  
“It has been, my friend! Far too long to go without hearing talk of cases.” James joked, stepping back.  
“And it’s been far too long to go without hearing about your novel. How’s it coming along?” Oscar asked, furrowing his brow in the way he often did when asking questions he wanted to know the answers to. James smiled, looking down at his shoes.  
“Well. I couldn’t resist the temptation to bring it with me.” James answered, pulling the small green book out of the pocket of his slacks.  
Oscar laughed aloud at the sight. “Who knew, the masterpiece of the century, to outrank Dickens and Fitzgerald, and dare I say it Shakespeare, would be kept in the smallest notebook ever pressed together?” Oscar teased.  
“Oh, stop, you flatter me. How are you settling into the office, Mr. District Attorney?” James could give as good as he got, as long as what he got didn’t have Damien’s face.  
“Very well, as a matter of fact! I’ve almost organized all my files. That process is a nightmare, in case you were wondering. I shouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” Oscar replied, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.  
“I would wager you’re doing remarkably. I’m gonna catch up with Damien now, but we’ll talk more later!” James promised, before setting a path to follow Damien.   
Thankfully, it was a fairly straight shot, and Damien beckoned him over to guide him the rest of the way.  
He found himself back in the room they had predicted, of course, Mark would make his grand entrance. And naturally, wearing a silk red robe and a cravat, he did.   
Damien and James shared a glance as he spoke, Damien already on his third glass of champagne. James eyed the drink. He knew Damien would be incredibly ridiculous by midnight, and it would be endlessly entertaining to be the only one sober.  
Mark spilled pretty words, and James appreciated all of them. But one sentence stuck with him. “Who knows? I could be dead tomorrow.”  
The words had something behind them James couldn’t quite pinpoint. And surely he wasn’t the only one disturbed by the laugh that followed? Looking around, he seemed to be.  
The bad feeling did, however, did decide to quiet down as the night heated up. Before James could even grasp what had happened, everyone but himself was completely drunk. He’d barely had a chance to say hello to the Colonel before he, too, had partaken in too much champagne.  
Abe had fashioned himself a turban, Mark was betting an exorbitant amount of his money, even Benjamin was drinking with the rest of the party.   
James had given up on playing the game almost as soon as it started, and was content to sit back and watch the festivities ensue. He wouldn’t join them. He couldn’t. But he could easily enjoy their drunken antics.  
There was a keg stand, a very angry chef yelling at Oscar to get out of his kitchen, the Colonel pointing a gun at his own head, a round of beer pong, and an ever changing scenery James simply couldn’t keep track of.  
After Abe punched Oscar in the face for flipping off Benjamin, the night wound to a close at a healthy 1:30.   
The Colonel didn’t bother trying to use the stairs and instead opted to sleep on a bench. Abe ran outside, screaming about squirrels, and collapsed into a bush. Mark helped Oscar into a room upstairs, leaving James with Damien. Very drunk, ten champagnes and definitely half a keg in his system.  
The man in question was sprawled across the poker table, clutching a long empty glass. He was giggling to himself about something. James had predicted this hours ago, but he had to admit. His predictions did no justice to the actual sight.  
James sat gently beside Damien, placing a hand on his back. He had lost his jacket hours ago, given it to James who “looked cold”. James still had it, slung over his shoulder.  
Damien looked up at James, crooked smile on his lips, cheeks flushed red, eyes full of unmasked emotion.  
“Jamie you’re so pretty.” He slurred.  
“Thank you, Damien. You’re very pretty, yourself.” James returned, keeping his voice soft. Damien’s grin only grew larger.  
“You think I’m pretty?” He asked, almost as though he couldn’t believe it.  
“I think you’re the most gorgeous creature to ever walk the Earth.” James agreed.  
“Thank you. You’re the only person I even...care about hearing that from…” Damien sat back in his chair, looking deadly serious. “I hear...I hear them. What they all say about me. Say I’m the most eligible bachelor in the city. But ‘m not.” Damien practically whined the last syllable. “I wanna tell those assholes all about who took my heart and isn’t givin’ it back. ‘M not a bachelor, Jamie, ‘m _not_.” He insisted, tugging on James’s shirt. James’s heart swelled at the sight.  
“I know, my love, I know.” James assured, running his hand through Damien’s disheveled hair.  
“You’re the only one for me, y’know. _Only_ one.” Though Damien likely wouldn’t remember this in the morning, it meant the world to James. Damien was an obsessive truth teller while drunk, and anything he said while inebriated was what he actually thought.  
“You’re my one and only, Damien. But I think it’s time for you to go to bed. You’ve had a long day, and a few too many drinks.” James guided.  
Damien’s head lolled onto James’s shoulder, utterly lovestruck look in his eyes. “Whatever you say, my darling.”  
James helped Damien to his feet and up the flight of stairs, to the room that had been set aside for Damien. Once inside the room, he helped Damien with his button-up and shoes before lowering him to the bed. He’d be out within moments, James knew very well. He remembered from their university days.  
James stepped towards the door, turning off the light on his way out.  
“Goodnight, Damien. I’ll see you in the morning, love.” James murmured into the darkened room.  
“Wait. James?” Damien called out, softly. Almost hesitant. “I...don’t want to sleep alone. Please don’t go.”  
James quickly weighed his options. On the one hand, everyone could find out and shun them both, possibly even tell the tabloids to get Damien impeached. On the other, the love of his life was sleepy, drunk, and wanted to be held.  
In the end, it was an easy choice. James would just get up earlier than normal so no one would find out.  
He re-entered the room and kicked off his shoes, setting his and Damien’s jackets aside. He crawled into the bed with Damien and wrapped his arm around him.  
“Much better.” Damien mumbled. He finally slept, and James wasn’t far behind him. He did, however, take a moment to place a soft kiss behind Damien’s ear, before falling into blissful oblivion.


	3. The Murder

James woke up well before the rest of the household that morning, and quickly set to work covering his tracks. He erased all evidence of himself from Damien’s room, and created evidence in his own. One could never be too cautious.  
After that, he found he couldn’t sleep. He set himself to finding a quick bite to eat to hold him over until breakfast and would explore the lovely grounds, perhaps get some writing done amongst the gardens.  
Somehow, and it was beyond him how, Benjamin found him outside his room. He looked as though nothing had happened the previous night.  
“Good morning, sir.” Benjamin greeted, pleasantly. He seemed to be unsuspicious of James’s activities.  
“Good morning, Benjamin. What can I do for you?” James returned the greeting.   
“I simply wanted to ask if you would like a light snack,” Benjamin produced a shiny red apple and held it out to James. “Breakfast won’t be ready for several hours, you’ll need something to tide you over until then.”  
“Yes, thank you, Benjamin. It is much appreciated.” James took the apple from Benjamin as he spoke, grateful.  
James slipped the apple into his pocket, preferring to eat amongst the flowers. Benjamin shifted from foot to foot, seemingly needing to say something.  
“By the by, I know it’s none of my business, but...your secret is safe with me.” Benjamin finally produced, taking James aback. _He knew._  
“What secret?” James asked. He had to be sure.  
“The one you share with the esteemed mayor. I’m privy to everything in this house, in case you were wondering. But I am the only one privy to it. So the secret will die with me, I can assure you.” Benjamin said, offering a kind smile. One James eventually returned.  
James had a knack for reading people. And this butler was sincere, a kind soul with good intentions. What he said was true.  
“That is much appreciated. Thank you.” James replied. “You’re a good man, Benjamin.”   
“I only do what I feel I must.” Benjamin said, smile growing on his face. James nodded at him and walked past him, out towards the grounds.  
The air was crisp and cool, working its way into his lungs, misting his warm breath ever so slightly. Early morning mist settled into his hair, on his skin. For the first time since his arrival, James felt like he could breathe properly.  
The sensation had been quieter around his friends, and nearly gone while he slept beside Damien, but it manifested in his nightmares. It was only because of Damien’s drunken stupor that he hadn’t heard James’s nightmares, when he typically did.  
James was overly prone to nightmares. They plagued him at least every other night, and no matter what he tried, he couldn’t be rid of them.  
They were more visceral, and lingered longer, when he was alone. Usually the presence of another, particularly Damien, was enough to tame them a bit, but something in the house, in the very _atmosphere_ of his close friends, had exacerbated them.  
Even though he had woken up early, he was glad it was beside Damien. It was like assuring himself that his terrible nightmare hadn’t come to pass. Damien wasn’t dead.  
James found himself a small table with two chairs amongst the spacious gardens and settled into one. He set his book and pen onto the table, opting to eat his apple first.  
He barely noticed time passing around him as he engulfed himself in the world on the page, taking routine bites of the apple.  
Before he knew it, it was around eight thirty. Breakfast would be served soon, and the rest of the household would be awake.  
As he stood up, pocketing his notebook and throwing the apple core to a pair of birds, lightning flashed in the sky. Thunder cracked.  
And then again.  
And again. He really needed to get inside.  
James dashed towards the house, as fast as his legs would carry him, throwing open the door and rushing inside. He stumbled upon a scene he would have never expected.  
“Sir, the body’s cold. He’s been dead for a while.” Benjamin said to Abe, who was in a bathrobe and his hat, facing Oscar, who appeared paler than normal. Utterly shellshocked. Watching the scene play out was the chef, looking utterly confused.  
Below all of them was Mark. Dead.  
James tuned out their conversation, it became white noise to his ears. They barely even noticed his entrance. He was focused on Mark’s body.  
Mark knew. He knew somehow that he would die. James knew his instincts were never wrong. Something bad had happened here. And he couldn’t quite believe it actually had.  
James had to find Damien. If someone wanted Mark dead, Damien could be a target, as well. However, the house was built like a maze, meant to confuse and frustrate all those who attempted to navigate it.  
By the time James returned to the crime scene, it looked like a _proper_ crime scene. A sheet had been placed over Mark’s...corpse, Abe was fully dressed, and surrounded by yellow tape. Oscar still appeared shocked, as though he couldn’t believe this was happening.  
James heard the sounds of familiar footsteps, and felt relief numb his body as Damien entered the room. He immediately looked down at the body.  
“What the hell happened here?” He asked, horrified. He didn’t seem to be plagued by a hangover in the slightest. He looked up at Abe, then to Oscar, utterly confused.  
“Oh. Mr. Mayor. I’m so sorry. There’s been a murder…” Benjamin revealed, causing lightning to flash once more. Oscar flinched at the sound of the thunder.  
“A murder?” Damien repeated, making the thunder crackle again. Oscar took a step back. James almost went to him, to comfort him. But it wouldn’t be appropriate at the moment. “Who?” Damien asked. There was a slight hitch in his voice.  
“It’s Mark.” The chef replied, simply shrugging as though he didn’t care all that much.  
“I’m afraid he’s telling the truth.” Abe added. “Mark’s been killed.”   
“Why? Who would do this?” Damien asked.  
“That’s exactly what me and my new partner here are here to find out.” Abe answered, gesturing to Oscar.  
“Um, excuse me, but I feel that we should all the authorities for them to handle this matter.” Benjamin said, worriedly.  
“Listen buddy, as far as you’re concerned, I _am_ the authorities.” Abe snapped, pulling out a badge. Along with the badge, a long string of photos unfolded. He began to reel it back in. “And the fact of the matter is, I believe the killer is right here, amongst us in this very house. With that freaky lightning storm outside, none of us would get very far, anyway. So, in the meantime, we’re stuck here. And I’m gonna get to the bottom of this. The rest of you, get back to your rooms, hunker down, and pray to God you’re not next to be murdered.”   
As he spoke the final word, there was another lightning flash outside, causing Oscar to hunch over. James could take no more.  
“I’ll...check on our other guests.” Benjamin said, fleeing the room before James could speak up.  
“I’ll get back to cooking. All this death made me hungry!” The chef exclaimed, following suit.  
James set a path for the detective, stopping beside Oscar, drawing the attention of the remaining parties in the room.  
“Hang on just a moment, why was Oscar drafted into this?” James snapped.  
“James-” Damien began.  
“He’s the only one here I feel I can trust. Which makes me wonder, how do we know you’re not the murderer?” Abe accused. James had been expecting that type of reaction, just as he’d been expecting another flare of the storm outside. He braced his hand on Oscar’s shoulder.  
“Mark was one of my best friends, I’d sooner kill myself than him!” James shouted back at him. “I’m just as horrified as you are, all I’m wondering is why you have to draft in one of us to help you?”   
“If there’s a killer on the loose, I need as much help as I can get, and I can’t be sure it wasn’t any of you jackasses.” Abe said.  
“James, can I have a word with you?” Damien interjected. James let his hackles relax a bit as Damien grabbed his arm and took him out of the room, to a discrete corner of the hall.  
James took a deep breath once Damien had him alone. Damien was silent, allowing his anger a moment to die. Damien always knew what to do to calm him.  
“You made a promise to me, Damien. If things went south, you would leave. Things went south.” James murmured, quietly, leaning into Damien.   
Upon hearing of Mark’s death, James found he cared less and less if anyone found out about their relationship. He just wanted Damien safe and well.  
“If either of us left, we would incriminate ourselves to a crime we didn’t commit. Besides, our friend is dead. Don’t we at least owe it to him to help the detective find out who killed him? To put his soul at ease?” Damien reasoned.   
He had logical points, and in any other scenario, James would have agreed. But the pit in his stomach was growing by the second, and all he wanted to do was leave with Damien, flee to safety. If that made him a coward, he would accept the title with pride.  
“If there’s a killer on the loose, I doubt they just came for Mark. If they see all the high profile guests he had staying with him, maybe they’ll decide one hit wasn’t enough. They could go after Oscar, the Colonel, Abe, they could go after you, Damien! The day I lose you is the day I lose everything, I cannot risk that! I cannot risk you!” James argued.   
Tears had begun welling in his eyes. He wouldn’t cry, he promised himself he wouldn’t cry, but they were coming in anyways. Mark was one of his best friends. Just because they hadn’t spoken in some time didn’t mean their bond was broken. And the thought of losing anyone else to the killer, especially Damien...it was too much to bear.  
Damien cupped James’s cheek, gently, wiping away a tear that had dared to fall. “What did I promise you? I’ll be okay. We will make it through this, both of us. Alive. Abe and Oscar will find the killer, and justice will be served for the death of our friend. Alright? I promise. And if that isn’t enough…” Damien reached into his pocket and unhooked his pocket watch, handing it over to James. “You know how I hate to be without this. So I will take it back from you after the killer has been brought to light and we are safe once more, and Mark can be properly laid to rest.”  
James took the watch into his hands, metal still warm from the contact with Damien. Damien was never without it, it was true. Being trusted with it showed how dire the situation was. He put the watch into his pocket, safely tucking it away.  
“We barely got to say hello to him. And we didn’t say goodbye…” James muttered, looking down at the floor.  
Damien sighed, resting heavily on his cane. “I will miss him, dearly. As I’m sure we all will. I...had better inform the Colonel. I’d wager he doesn’t know.” Damien’s voice was thick, softer than James typically heard it. He could guess Damien was close to tears, himself.  
Damien typically wasn’t the loudest of men, but his voice was always heard. Now, it would be easy to miss.  
“I ought to apologize to the detective. Offer my assistance, if at all possible.” James said.  
“That could be dangerous.” Damien pointed out.  
“I understand. But the quicker we learn who this is, the quicker we can leave.” James retorted. He glanced around the hallway and found it bare, before pressing a soft kiss to Damien’s lips. He tasted of tea, a ritual Benjamin likely had supplied him with.  
James and Damien parted ways, James hesitating just long enough to watch him leave the room, before turning back to find Abe.  
The detective was still with the body, examining Mark’s fingernails. James couldn’t imagine how that would be helpful, but he was no detective.  
Abe looked up at James and startled. “Oh, uh...James, right? What are you doing, this is a crime scene!”   
“I wanted to apologize for my earlier behavior. I was just...shocked by the loss of my friend, and feeling protective over Oscar. He’s unsettled by storms.” James explained.  
“I see. Apology accepted, but we don’t have time for this. I’ve managed to narrow down the time of death to around 1:30. What were you doing then?” Abe asked, standing to his full height and narrowing his eyes at James.  
“I was with Damien. He wanted to continue partying but was half asleep walking up the stairs. It took some doing to actually get him to settle down, and by that point it was nearing two.” James tried to bend the truth a bit. He wasn’t _precisely_ lying, and that was a good thing. Outright lying often made his stomach churn.  
“And Damien can support this?” Abe asked, raising a brow.  
“Yes, he can. He copes incredibly well with his liquor. He will likely remember most of last night. But I haven’t had the chance to ask him.” James replied. Abe stared him down for a long moment, examining him.  
“It checks out. You’re off the hook. For now.” Abe ended the sentence with a warning finger in his direction.  
“Understood. I was wondering if perhaps I could be of some use in the investigation?” James suggested, hopefully. “Mark was my friend. I want to bring his murderer to justice.” The lightning storm appeared to be back, crashing down and startling both Abe and James. And then again, unprompted by either of them.  
Was it simply mention of the word ‘murder’?  
“I’ve got my partner searching the house. Look around the grounds, search for any stashed weapons, but don’t assume you’re my partner.” Abe insisted.  
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll be back if I find anything.” James assured, eager to be out of the room. It was beginning to take on the smell of a corpse. James had only smelled it once in his life, and it made him swear off meat for the rest of his life.  
James dashed outside and slowed his pace once his feet touched the grass. Combing the bushes would be the best step. If one wanted to stash a knife or a gun, one would throw them away in bushes or trees.  
If anyone were to see him this way, they would probably think him insane. He would rather that than Mark’s murder go unsolved.  
After a moment of searching thoroughly through the patch of bushes, he stood back to his full height, his hands now bloodied and cut up. He sighed at the sight. He remembered his hands looking similar as a child, all the time. He was always the clumsiest of any group he was in.  
He wiped his hands on his trousers, hoping to rid them of the excess blood. He knew he should probably get bandages for them, or at the very least, a pair of gloves. But his self-preservation skills had never been the best. He’d been scolded far too many times over it by the Colonel, Oscar, Damien...Mark.  
James looked up in time to see Damien, pacing amongst the oak trees not too far from himself. He looked troubled, utterly perturbed, fidgeting more than normal with his cane. James debated whether or not to call out to him. Perhaps he wanted to be alone…  
James didn’t get the chance to choose, as Damien chose that moment to look up. “James? What are you doing out here?” He called out, curiously, stepping over variations in the earth to reach him.   
“I’m helping the detective out in the case. He asked me to search the grounds for the...weapon.” James left out the word ‘murder’, just to see. Sure enough, no lightning.   
James hid his hands behind his back. He didn’t want to worry Damien any further than he clearly had been.  
“He did manage to rope you in, didn’t he?” Damien asked. He sounded exhausted, and James wanted nothing more than to grant him sleep, far away from the events of the manor.  
“What’s wrong, love?” James asked, barely resisting the urge to touch him. Damien sighed in response.  
“The Colonel. He must be in shock, he’s being entirely unreasonable. He didn’t seem to...care at all about Mark’s death!” Damien ranted. “I already feel so...lost. My friend, gone so suddenly…” Damien looked at the ground, appearing ready to cry.  
“Damien, I…” James wasn’t sure what to say. Normally, he knew precisely what to say and when to say it. But he was just as lost as Damien. “Shall I leave you alone?” James knew that could help him, sometimes.  
“No...no, not just yet. You are one of the only things I’m sure of at all times. If I’m lost, you are my anchor.” Damien said. James’s lips twitched, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile.  
“I’m honored. What do you need from me?” James asked, an invitation. Anything Damien asked for, he could have. James didn’t know when he had gotten that lost for the charming man before him, but there was no escaping it now.  
Damien glanced at his odd posture and set down his cane. “Give me your hands.” Damien demanded, clearly having suspected James’s ploy. He always could.  
James guiltily held out his hands. All the minor wounds had clotted, but they were already beginning to hurt like hell.   
“Abe asked me to look through the bushes…” James explained. His voice sounded flimsy, even to his own ears.  
Damien gave a small tsk, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a roll of bandages. “I knew I carried these for good reason.” He muttered, halfheartedly upset. He began covering James’s hands in bandages, working gently and carefully.   
It wasn’t just the romantic moments, the moments they stole from the rest of the world, that made James feel loved. It was moments like these. James had always had Damien’s love, even when they were merely friends.  
“James, you should really start taking care of yourself.” Damien insisted.  
“I know, I know, I just didn’t think. I was given something to do.” James shrugged it off.  
James didn’t function well in crisis unless he had a task. And he would certainly classify his friend’s murder as a crisis.  
“I don’t mind much. Much as I dislike seeing you in pain, caring for you...is one of the greatest honors I could have.” Damien said, not looking up from his task. James frowned.  
“How do you mean?” James asked, puzzled. Maybe if he got Damien’s mind off his argument with the Colonel it would help. It was one of the only ways he knew how to help.  
“You don’t let people in, James. It took myself, Mark, and the Colonel years to learn your birthday,” Damien smiled to himself, faintly. “You opened up to them, and to Oscar, but not in the way you opened up to me. They know your habits, what makes you tick, but even to this day, you share precious little. But even back at university, you were always more open with me. It was me you came to when you got hurt, me you shared your fear of knives with, me you cried in front of when you came across a dead bird. Until last year, I couldn’t understand what was so…special about me. To be honest, I still don’t. All I know is that you chose me. And I don’t take that for granted.”  
James had sworn he wouldn’t cry. But this was the second time he’d broken that vow. He felt the tears roll down his cheeks before he could stop them, and saw them reflected in Damien’s own eyes.  
“I love you, Damien.” James could only murmur. Damien finished his task and gently held James’s hands.  
“I love you, too, James. More than you will ever realize.” Damien matched his tone, voice shaking.   
James pulled Damien into a soft hug, running his fingers through thick black hair. Damien nestled into the embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around James’s waist.   
James said nothing as silent sobs wracked Damien’s body, dampening his suit jacket.


	4. The Seer's Arrival

Lightning crashed overhead, drawing James’s attention away from Damien, and then again moments later.  
Damien slowly lifted his head, towards the darkening sky. “We should hurry back inside. This lightning storm is getting out of hand.”   
James nodded his agreement as Damien pulled away, picking up his cane. James felt a bit colder as he did, October air filling the space Damien occupied.  
James caught sight of someone leaving the house and peered at them, suspiciously. “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” James insisted.  
“James, I’m not leaving you in a lightning storm with a murderer on the loose.” As soon as the words left Damien’s lips, another crackle of thunder shook the ground beneath their feet. James frowned as Damien’s hands tightened around his cane.   
“I won’t be long, I promise. I just have to see something. Be back before you know it.” James assured.  
Damien looked ready to argue, but bit his lip and sighed, still fiddling with his cane. He knew that if James was certain about something, there would be no arguing with him.   
“Alright, I trust you. Hurry back, Sunrise.” Damien finally agreed. The nickname made a smile crawl onto James’s face.  
“Someday I will figure out why you call me that.” James promised. Damien smiled at that, just slightly. The red was fading from his eyes, something James liked to see.  
He waited until Damien was almost inside before speeding in the direction of the figure he’d seen, soon recognizing it as the Colonel.  
“Colonel!” James called, bounding towards his friend.   
The Colonel turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised. “Ah, James, there you are! I haven’t seen you all morning.”  
“What are you doing out here?” James questioned.  
“I could ask you the same, chap. Mark’s body has gone missing, we suspect a zombie.” The Colonel answered.  
“What?! Mark’s body is gone?! That isn’t the work of a zombie, that’s the work of a psychopath!” James exclaimed.  
“We’re not taking any chances.” The Colonel argued.   
“Mark is not a zombie, there is no such thing!” James argued.  
“Why does the idea bother you so much?” The Colonel asked. It seemed he didn’t have a problem with James, unlike Damien.  
“Because Mark was my friend! The fact you lot would stain his memory with ludicrous claims is just…” James trailed off into a huff. “I’m sorry. Emotions are...heightened, at the moment.”   
“I understand, Shefford. These are dark times.” The Colonel answered, solemnly. “Get inside. I’ll continue searching for...the body.”  
James nodded, and went inside, just as another crack of thunder came down upon them. People really needed to stop saying murder.  
James walked around the house for what had to be twenty minutes, searching for Damien. But he was elusive. Or perhaps it was the house, itself.  
Seeing nothing better to do, James bounded up the stairs to his room. Perhaps it was better to stay in one place, wait for Damien to find him?  
Damien would. If he wanted to see James, he would find him, sooner or later. He wasn’t the type to simply give up.  
James entered the room that was his only in technicality and instantly knew something was wrong. He couldn’t put words to it, exactly, but he could feel it in his gut. He needed to leave the room, immediately. A darkness hung around him, constricting his lungs, freezing all rational thoughts in his mind.  
James turned to leave, to run. And then everything went black. James felt his legs buckle beneath him, and tried to call out for someone, _anyone_ , before he hit the ground.  
When James opened his eyes, it was to several loud crashes of thunder, and an argument downstairs. He had to go check on them, he had to see if Damien was okay. What had happened? He couldn’t tell, all he knew was that he didn’t care about the blood from his head.  
James stood, bracing himself on the wall, trying to regain his balance. It took him a moment, but finally, he made it out of the room and started down the stairs, just as lightning flashed before his eyes. It hurt to look at, but he had to persevere.   
He made it down the stairs, and found everyone else in the house, standing in the oddest circle, with a newcomer. One he knew very well.  
“Celine?!” James exclaimed, voice sounding scratchy. How long had he been out?   
Everyone, as one, turned to look at him, shocked. Damien’s eyes immediately went to his wound, but Celine’s eyes focused in on his heart.  
“James! By God, what happened?!” Damien demanded, holding out his arms for James to brace on.  
“I knew there was a darkness here!” Celine exclaimed, halfway between triumphant and terrified. “It got you, didn’t?”  
“Celine, give the man a moment to breathe, for God’s sake, he’s bleeding!” Damien snapped. Then he looked into James’s eyes. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”  
“Yes, Damien, I’m fine, just a bit dizzy,” James answered. “What got me, Celine?” James questioned to her.  
“There is something beyond our grasp within this house. I think it may have attacked you.” Celine answered.   
“Celine, please think about what you’re saying.” Damien said, shifting to stand a bit in front of James, protectively.  
“Enough!” Celine shouted. Before James could quite process what was happening, they were sitting around a table. “Look, Mark’s death is a terrible thing, indeed. But I fear there are forces much darker than anything we’ve seen here today! I’m well versed in the arcane arts, but if you, untrained and uninitiated can summon lightning with a mere word, we’re all in far graver danger than anything we could ever hope to face alone.”  
James tried to focus on her words, tried to focus on the situation. But he was hearing whispers, growing ever louder in his ears. He reached out to grab Damien’s hand, to keep himself grounded.  
James was the classic example of a skeptic. He didn’t even pray to a god. But he knew Celine was telling the truth. He knew he hadn’t passed out for no reason. He knew the whispers weren’t all in his head. Celine was right.  
Damien’s hand left his, and James snapped to awareness, watching as Celine, Oscar, and Damien left the table. James stood to join them, swayed only for a moment. He was steadied by the Colonel for just a moment.   
He stood beside Damien, resting a comforting hand on Oscar’s shoulder. He could tell Oscar was nervous. He was as white as a sheet, a determined gleam in his eyes.  
Celine began to summit the stairs, Damien on her heels, Oscar third. James trailed behind, bracing himself on the railing. Oscar cast a worried glance in his direction.  
“But all this talk of the occult! And-and Mark is dead! Wait!” Damien called, stopping her at the top of the steps. “I just didn’t think you were the type to become mixed up in this.”  
“There’s more to this world than you could ever hope to imagine. I’ve just had my eyes opened to a small portion of it.” Celine snapped. She turned on her heel and stormed away.  
“Just be careful!” Damien shouted after her. As Oscar walked past him, he murmured a quiet: “You, too.”   
Oscar disappeared into the hall, leaving James with Damien. Damien was looking at his feet, the stress of it all making lines in his face. James reached up to smooth out the lines, gently.  
Damien finally looked at him, worry setting deeper lines into his skin. It broke James’s heart to see it.  
“What happened, Jamie?” Damien asked, softly. He lifted his fingers to the blood on James’s forehead. James tried not to flinch when Damien touched the wound, but he noticed anyways. “I’m sorry.” Damien quickly apologized.  
“No, it’s...it’s fine. And as for what happened,” James paused, trying to organize his thoughts. “Celine was right. Something dark is at work. It attacked me when I tried to enter my room. It drew blood, Damien.”  
Damien considered a moment, looking into his eyes. James vowed to never lie, especially to Damien. In their entire time of knowing each other, James had never lied to him. He wasn’t about to start now.  
“I...believe you. If you, of all people, think that something demonic is happening...it must be. We’ll leave soon, after Oscar and Celine have concluded their work. We have to take them with us.” Damien insisted.  
“Of course. It will help us rule out the killer, hopefully. If the killer wasn’t the house, itself.” James murmured the last part, but Damien still heard it.  
“Your ominous feeling is beginning to make more and more sense.” Damien said. “Come on, we should go wait outside in case they need anything.” Damien held out his hand, and James readily took it, allowing himself to be helped up the remaining stairs.  
As soon as Damien stopped talking, the whispers returned. All of the words were nonsense, James couldn’t make out any language he even recognized.  
The whispers rattled around in his head, only growing louder with each seemingly thunderous step he took. He was focused on his feet, one in front of the other. He could hear someone’s voice, Damien’s, as if through water. He felt his legs giving out and leaned against the wall, slowly sinking to the floor.  
Damien’s face appeared in front of his, utter panic etched onto his features. He said something, but James couldn’t make it out.  
One sound, more distinct than any sound James had ever heard, cut through the whispers. Laughter, demented and twisted, full of madness James had never heard on anyone before.   
Damien looked away suddenly, then back at James, before standing up and running towards another room.  
The whispers were finally gone. He could hear the others again. They were having some manner of argument that James couldn’t follow. He was so tired, so tired. He hadn’t slept long enough the previous night, cover-up operations always woke him up early.  
James rested his head gently against the wall, using his curls as a cushion, and closed his eyes. Sleep took him within moments.


	5. Dark

James couldn’t quite define his dreams other than darkness. If he had to compare it to something, the closest he could get was a memory from long ago.  
When he was a teenager, before the days of Damien and Mark and the Colonel, he had a lake outside his family home. He spent most summers with his family around the lake, and then with his friends, drinking before they should have and pretending they hadn’t been out late to their parents.  
They had decided to camp out by the lake one November, in the folly of youth. It was frigid, ice just forming on the surface of the lake. Sleeping on the ground was certainly a form of torture untapped by law enforcement.  
It had to be two o’clock in the morning. James’s friends woke him up from a deep sleep to come look at the lake.   
The top layer had completely frozen over. They all began to dare each other to walk upon the new, fragile ice. All but James, who tried to turn around and go back to bed.  
However, who James then considered to be his best friend grabbed him by the collar as though he were a feather, and really, James back then had been. He was far too tall for his weight.  
This friend had thrown him onto the lake, and naturally, he fell through the ice. Even being the lightest person there, it was an easy feat.  
There was no feeling quite like it. The icy water wrapped around his body, crushing his lungs, feeling as though it separated his skin and bones from each other. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t feel, he couldn’t even see the surface. Icy, swirling darkness, all-consuming, all-destroying.  
That was all that James could define those dreams, almost nightmares, as. The feeling of plunging into a watery abyss, with the uncertainty of what was at the bottom.  
Through the water and icy outer layers, James heard a voice calling out to him, panic making it slightly high pitched. Some part of James’s brain recognized the voice, and felt warmed by it. He reached out to the voice.  
James opened his eyes, and he could see things once more. And the first sight his tired eyes could comprehend was an altogether different sort of darkness. The kind that felt like a blanket, a child’s protection against the rest of the world. Damien’s eyes, staring into his own. They were too worried, why was he scared?  
“James! Thank God!” Damien exclaimed, wrapping him in a tight embrace. James nestled his head into Damien’s shoulder, enjoying the embrace for as long as it lasted.  
Damien pulled away and examined every part of James he could see. “Are you okay? I thought I’d lost you!” Damien cupped James’s face, gently.  
“I’m not that easy to kill. I’m fine, I just went to sleep.” James muttered. Bracing himself against the wall, James brought himself to his feet, aided slowly by Damien. “What happened?”  
“The others are out interrogating the gardener.” Celin spoke up, from somewhere behind Damien. James sought her out and met her eyes. She held Damien’s cane.  
“I didn’t know there was a gardener. It only stands to reason, though…” James muttered, beginning to think, rapid-fire.  
“James,” Damien called out, quickly snapping him out of it. “Not yet. There will be time for that later. Let’s try and regroup, alright?”  
James nodded, silently. Celine handed Damien his cane and walked down the hall, retreating into a room. Damien lingered in the hall, James, with him.  
Damien ran his hand gently through James’s curls, still examining his condition with his eyes. Damien was nothing if not a worrier.  
“I’m alright, Damien. I wasn’t before I slept, if I’m being honest.” James replied to his unspoken question.  
“Forgive me for worrying,” Damien began, fear slowly mounting behind his features. “But you and Celine were right. Somehow, Oscar knew about the gardener without ever having met him, through the use of Celine’s...skills.” Damien sighed. “It isn’t safe here. And clearly whatever it is has a vendetta against you. Finding the killer is becoming meaningless, if all of us die because of this accursed house.”  
James grabbed the hand Damien was using to gesture with, and pulled it to him. “If I thought it would work, I would ask you to leave, now. But you won’t, not while the Colonel and Oscar are still here. Am I wrong?” James murmured.  
“No. You’re not. It hasn’t gone far enough south for me to fulfill my promise.” Damien agreed, exactly how James anticipated he would. Damien was overly noble, but James wouldn’t love him if he wasn’t exactly himself.  
“Very well. The second more people start getting attacked, though, that’s when you leave. Please, my love, if you do nothing else for me, at least do this.” James implored, desperately. “The heart in my chest beats for you, and if you’re not there…” James let the words hang.  
Damien often told him how much he meant to him. Perhaps James hadn’t impressed the same feeling upon him.  
Damien seemed to get the message, though. His demeanor softened, and he stepped closer to James.  
“I will. I won’t break that promise to you, James Shefford, it’s simply something I can’t do.” Damien assured, pulling their joined hands to him. “I love you.”  
When Damien professed his love, no matter his tone, he always said it as though it was a well-known fact of the universe. Never a question or doubt in his mind. It was like there were only a few fundamental truths to Damien, and the fact that he loved James was one of them.  
“I love you, too.” James whispered, not finding the strength to raise his voice. Damien smiled nonetheless and pulled him into a kiss. Thunder crashed once more.  
James couldn’t ignore how much it felt like a goodbye after they had parted, Damien going to follow Celine. James needed a moment alone to think.  
However, it wasn’t long before he heard Celine scream. James dashed down the hall, ignoring the ever lingering dizziness in his mind.  
He burst in through the door to find the worst possible sight he could have imagined. His stomach churned, for it now housed his heart.  
Damien and Celine were sprawled out on the floor, awkwardly, pools of blood around them growing by the second.  
James’s brain stopped. It couldn’t comprehend what it was seeing.  
James, as if through a dream, ran to Damien’s side, kneeling in his still-warm blood. James brought Damien into his lap, cradling as much as he could.  
“Damien? Damien! Damien, please!” James begged, voice sounding utterly foreign to his own ears. “Damien, please, you said...you _promised_ you wouldn’t leave me!” James felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks. He rested his head on Damien’s chest, hoping foolishly for a heartbeat.   
His chest was still warm, still carried the familiar scent James had come to know as home.   
James held Damien’s head to his chest, beginning to rock back and forth without fully realizing what he was doing.  
“Please...please wake up...Damien, please…” James begged. His voice was shaking and waterlogged, and he let out a heaving sob.  
Nothing made sense. There wasn’t a world without Damien, right? Not one he wanted to live in, at least.   
James remembered the watch still in his pocket. It felt...heavier than before.  
“You said you’d take it back! This watch is yours, Damien. Open your eyes and take it back, dammit!” James was beginning to shout, now. “Please. Come back to me.” He whispered.  
He wasn’t sure how long, precisely, he stayed in that room, slowly getting soaked with blood, cradling the love of his life as if that would be enough to make him come back.  
Thunder crashed. Then twice. Blinding lights went up all around him, and he buried his face in Damien’s hair.  
James heard the others enter the house.  
When the lights passed, Damien and Celine were gone. James had never felt emptier.   
He knew he had to tell them. They would all be heartbroken. But surely they would be fine, as long as they didn’t feel all that he was feeling.  
James shakily got to his feet, not caring about the blood on his hands, on his clothes.   
He walked out of the room, unsure where his legs were carrying him.  
He saw all the others. Oscar, the Colonel, Abe, Benjamin...all were gathered in the hall. The chef was nowhere to be found, however. And they all appeared upset, but their attention was quickly drawn by him.  
“James! What the hell happened?!” The Colonel shouted.  
“I don’t know, I don’t know! One second they were here and then-then they were…” James choked on his words.   
The Colonel stormed away, shouting about his friends, Abe on his heels. Benjamin addressed Oscar and James, solemnly.  
“I know he’s in pain. And I know you both must be, too. But we need to leave this place. There’s only death here, now.” Benjamin said. With that, he left the hall. James sincerely doubted he’d ever see the mysterious but kind butler ever again.  
Oscar turned to him, then, concern on his face. “James, are you alright?” He asked, gently. But he didn’t stick around for the answer.   
A darkness overcame his eyes, the likes of which James had never seen before. He seemed to move without even realizing he was moving as he left the hall and down the stairs. James wasn’t about to lose another loved one. He sped after him, not wanting to harm him, but not wanting to leave him alone.  
They wound up at something of a study, one which James had never noticed before. It was covered in papers and photographs, scribblings of a madman littering every piece of parchment. A typewriter sat in the middle of the chaos, pristine as though untouched.  
The darkness cleared from Oscar’s eyes and he stumbled backwards, reeling. He looked into James’s eyes, panicked.  
“James? Where are we? What happened?” He questioned, voice a higher pitch than normal.  
“I don’t know answers both those questions.” James replied, still taking in the study.   
The two of them spread out to search the study, Oscar examining the desk, James taking the cork board in the back.  
They all seemed to be notes about the Colonel, detailed and half-mad. Who made these notes? Had Abe? Had _Mark_? How had none of them seen this room before?  
At that moment, the Colonel chose to enter the room, drawing both Oscar’s and James’s attention.  
“There you two are! I’ve been meaning to ask you both some questions…” He trailed off as he surveyed the room and picked up one of the papers. “What is this?” He demanded. “The detective’s been...keeping tabs on us? The detective’s been keeping tabs on me...and Celine! He’s the one who orchestrated all of this!”  
James back up a few paces as the Colonel went through the room, bringing Oscar with him. The Colonel was a kind man, but in light of the situation...who could say?  
“He did this!” The Colonel roared. “DETECTIVE!” He stormed out of the room, readying his gun. Oscar cast a worried glance to James before following along. James had no choice but to join them.  
This couldn’t be happening. All of this, it simply couldn’t be happening. James couldn’t be following the Colonel on his way to kill the detective after the deaths of three wonderful people. This couldn’t be real.  
“Where is he?” The Colonel hissed, stomping up a flight of stairs. “He took them from me! He took my friends from me!” He sounded as mad as Abe’s drawings. “He took Celine! He took Damien!”  
James flinched at the mention. He was still covered in Damien’s blood. He could still feel Damien’s body as the warmth seeped from it and into the floorboards.  
“Where is he?!” The Colonel boomed, again. He was caught between two locked doors, searching vainly for Abe. “WHERE IS HE?! DETECTIVE!”  
Oscar reached out to stop him, to calm him down. The Colonel brushed him aside. “Are you hiding him from me?!” He demanded at Oscar.  
“No, of course not!” Oscar replied, but it was lost on the Colonel, too deep in a mad rage to hear anyone else.  
The Colonel tried another locked door and growled, storming away almost immediately. “He can’t hide forever! Get out of my way!” He shoved both of them aside, and James and Oscar were left to hopelessly follow along.  
After another flight of stairs, Abe was located, and the Colonel zeroed in on him, still shouting at the top of his lungs. “Detective!” He aimed his gun at Abe.  
“You better choose your next words carefully, Colonel.” Abe said, aiming his own gun. This was bad, this was very, _very_ bad. How could James deescalate the situation, how could he calm them down?  
“Only my friends get to call me by that name, and you, sir, are no friend of mine!” The Colonel was angrier than James had ever seen him.  
James had never been more terrified in his life. There were a thousand possible outcomes to this scenario, and almost all of them ended in someone’s death.  
He just wanted Damien there.  
“Oh, you’re one to talk about friends, you murderer!” Abe yelled, causing lightning to strike once more.  
“I didn’t kill anybody, this is madness!” The Colonel retorted. James rushed to get between them, but stood apart, as far away from the banister as he could. It was for the best that he did. They barely even noticed his movement.  
“You wanna talk about madness? Madness is stealing your best friend’s wife!” Abe said the words with more vitriol than James could have imagined.  
 _Oh._ Celine. Why didn’t he piece that together sooner? The hostility, the fondness, all of it…  
Oscar tried to grab at the Colonel, but the Colonel shook him off.  
“Madness is squeezing him for cash to fund your own sick sexual exploits with that very woman!” Abe accused.  
“Shut up!” The Colonel shot back.  
“Both of you, stop it!” James finally raised his voice. Abe turned on him.  
“And you! How do we know you’re not the murderer?” Lightning. “You’re covered in blood, I’d say that’s pretty fucking incriminating!”  
“I found the bodies of both of them! I would never lay a hand on Damien, I loved him more than you could ever begin to imagine!” James had had enough of this. “Stop this madness right now!”  
“Oh, no, no, no, madness!” Abe turned back to the Colonel as he spoke. “Is plotting the death of your childhood friend because you can’t handle the truth!” Abe was cut off.  
A gunshot. Clean and simple, embedding itself in Abe’s heart. He crumpled to the ground, but not before looking over at James.  
James couldn’t quite tell what went through Abe’s mind then. All he knew was that Abe’s gun was pointed at him. And there was a second gunshot.  
James couldn’t process it. It didn’t make any goddamn sense. Had he been shot? He must have been. He was losing his balance. Was he about to die? To join Damien so soon?  
James’s feet fell from under him, and he tipped backwards.  
 _Crack._


	6. Goodbye

James awoke in an endless dark void. Was that what it could be classified as? He stepped on darkness, the air he breathed was darkness, all he could see was darkness.  
Except...a faint blue light, up ahead. Was this what he had always suspected was fake? Was he supposed to step into the light?  
James followed the blue light, first at a walk, then in an all out run. It seemed to be his only chance at figuring out where the hell he was.  
As he drew nearer to the blue light, he could see a red light accompany it. And voices...he could hear voices! They seemed to be having an argument. Exactly what James needed, more arguments.  
“Hello?” He called out, tentatively, stopping the voices almost immediately.  
“No...no, he’s not supposed to be here! You said he wouldn’t be here!” Shouted one of the voices. It was one James recognized well.  
James ran faster than before, wanting to reach the lights. Wanting to reach Damien. He was just within reach. And if James was going to be dead, he at least wanted it to be with Damien.  
Sure enough, when he did, he saw the figures of Celine and Damien, Damien with a light blue glow, Celine with an intense crimson. They looked just as they had before they died. Damien holding his cane, Celine’s fascinator intact. James could have cried.  
“Damien? Celine?” He asked, disbelieving. He even expected this, yet it still caught him off guard. Seeing Damien again, something close to alive, was enough to break him.  
“No, no, no, no, you’re not supposed to be here!” Damien shouted. James flinched, and Damien immediately settled down. “I’m sorry, it’s just...you’re not dead. You’re not supposed to be here with us.”  
“There’s no saving you? No bringing you back?” James asked. His voice broke. Damien looked down at his feet.  
“No. I’m sorry, James, you’ll be going back alone.” Damien said.  
“Then I don’t want to go back! I said it before and I’ll say it again, I cannot lose you! If I lose you, I lose everything!” James argued. He didn’t care the Celine was watching Nothing was more important than Damien.   
Damien reached up and cupped his cheek, gently. The sorrow in his eyes was profound, and James despised it. “I’m sorry, my love. I wish things hadn’t ended this way, truly, I do.”   
“Damien,” Celine called, gently. “We’re running out of time. If we don’t send him back soon, he will stay with us. He will die.”  
“Let me die, then! What the hell else do I have for me, out there? You’re gone, all of my friends are either dead or insane...How can I even begin to move on?” James persisted.   
“Chances are, James, you won’t even remember us,” Celine said. Damien looked at her, shocked.  
“What?” Damien asked, surprised, and a bit...heartbroken? Celine stepped towards James.  
“James, you sustained massive head trauma. Your head knocked against the wall. An injury on top of an injury. You may not have parts of your memory, or even...your sense of identity.” She explained.  
“If I’m not going back as James, why would I want to go back at all?” James asked.  
“To set things right. To make sure everyone who has a body is properly laid to rest.” Celine answered.  
James looked helplessly between Celine and Damien. Damien grabbed his hand, and James knew he couldn’t stay. He wasn’t sure how he’d get on without Damien, but he would try to honor the man he loved, and all his friends.  
“Alright. I’ll go back and try my best.” James replied. It was the hardest sentence he’d ever said.  
“Wait. Before you do...can I have a moment with him? To say...goodbye.” Damien asked Celine, pleading tone sounding wrong on his tongue. Celine nodded and turned her back, covering her ears.  
Damien turned back to James with a pained expression. “I watched you, Jamie. I watched you mourn for me. Never have I hated myself more. I broke so many promises in one go and I may never forgive myself for that. Hell, I promised myself I would never make you cry for me. And I failed. I’m sorry.” Damien gripped his cane, tightly. A habit he could never get rid of, and one James would forever be looking for.  
“If you remember nothing else about me…” Damien began, but stopped, pained. “Please remember, you are what made my heart beat and my soul sing, and I would trade anything and everything to spend one more second with you, my sunrise.”  
James couldn’t stop the tears. He didn’t even try to wipe them away. Damien raised his hand and wiped them away, instead.  
“Why am I called Sunrise?” James asked, barely managing to get his voice above a whisper. Damien huffed a watery laugh, now crying, himself.  
“Because every time I look at you, I feel like it’s a new day. I can make myself a better man than the day before simply because you’ve given me that chance. I wanted to spend all my sunrises with you, who makes the beauty of it all seem dull in comparison.” Damien finally revealed.  
If a person could make a sound as their heart broke, James would have made it, then. Perhaps it sounded like shattering glass.   
The sobs ripped from James’s throat without stopping. Damien pulled him into an embrace, rubbing soothing circles in his back, murmuring softly into his ears.  
“I don’t want to leave you.” James managed to articulate.  
“I don’t want you to go.” Damien replied, voice gentle. “But you have to.” Damien stepped back, and James took a shaking breath to try and calm himself down. “If you find someone else, you have my blessing. All I’ve ever wanted is your happiness.”  
“There won’t be.” James promised. Damien smiled, sadly.  
“I knew you would say that.” Damien agreed. He tapped Celine’s shoulder, who turned around. There was a small streak of mascara down her cheek. James pretended not to notice.  
“Are you ready?” Celine asked James.  
“No. But I never will be.” James answered. He looked over to Damien, trying to memorize as much of him as he could. “I love you. You can’t even begin to know how much.”  
“I love you, too.” Damien replied.  
Celine placed a hand flat on James’s chest, and suddenly, he was falling, memories of Damien flooding through his mind, one last hand still reaching out for him.


	7. Clowning Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, I appreciate you so much. Thank you for taking the time to invest yourself in my little world, I hope you enjoyed it.

He woke up. That was the first thing he understood. He was, in fact, alive. Remarkably. Why was that remarkable, again? And why did his head hurt?   
He was leaning against a wall, legs all the way out. _Jesus_ he had long legs. Had he always had legs that long? Why couldn’t he remember that he was a long and skinny bastard? Huh.  
He looked over himself and felt around. There was a bandage around his side, and a few around his head. He was half drenched in blood, but how much of it was his own was a mystery. So many mysteries before him and his head hurt too damn much to unravel any of them.  
He stood up, swaying slightly on his feet. His hands were covered in bandages. Were they fake hands or something? He couldn’t remember the bandages being applied.  
Before him, he saw a body. Or was that man in the deerstalker hat still alive? He couldn’t quite tell, and he didn’t quite care. Instead, he bent down and picked up the body’s discarded gun. Had an almost full clip, but two bullets were missing. Curious.  
He stuck it into his pocket, only to find something else there. He fished it out. A pocket watch? The glass inside it was cracked, and on the inside cover was a picture of a curly haired man, smiling at the camera. Was that him? Why did he have a picture of himself in his pocket watch? Who the fuck even was he?  
He couldn’t shake the idea that it was important, so he slipped it back into his pocket and looked around. “How the fuck do I get outta this place?” He asked aloud. His voice sounded odd to him, but he couldn’t quite define how.  
He started walking down the staircase he saw to his right and looked around. The place he was in seemed to be empty. A mirror he passed had been smashed, and he saw a strange outline within it. It was probably his aching head playing a trick on him.  
He moved on from the mirror, towards what he assumed was the front door. As soon as he opened it up, he was greeted by blinding sunlight.   
“Where the fuck am I?” He asked, to no one in particular, but almost expected an answer.  
Seeing nothing else to do, the man without a name stepped forwards, into the unknown. 

 

_Some Time Later_  
They were waiting to see him. A willing audience, all for him. He’d never had that before. What was so different about tonight?  
A packed arena. Well, not precisely an arena, it was more like a small shack, but still! It was something, and they were all there to see him!  
He snapped his suspenders once, for good luck, and straightened his bow-tie, before walking out onto stage. The audience cheered for him, they actually cheered!  
“Hey everybody, I’m Wiggles the Clown!” He greeted, and they cheered again! Something was up, but he didn’t know what.  
Standing in the back, close to the door, was a man in a dark suit. He seemed to absorb the light in the room, but Wiggles could still make him out. He almost looked familiar. And he was clapping along with the audience, not as enthusiastically as the rest, though.  
Throughout the entire show, Wiggles kept looking at the man in the back. The man stayed silent, watching. Waiting?  
By the end of the show, while the rest of the crowd went wild, he stayed silent.  
Never in Wiggles’s wildest dreams, though, had he ever expected such an enthusiastic audience. He didn’t think people still threw flowers at a stage, and yet, here they were! What was happening?  
One flower stuck out to him. Delicate lilacs. His favorite, though he’d never told anyone. He bent down to pick up the flower, and by the time he stood back up, the dark man in the back was leaving.  
Soon enough, Wiggles would forget about the man shrouded in darkness. He didn’t care, not when people loved him as much as they did.  
What a great time to be a clown!


End file.
